"Then look here, Mr b.u.t.ters," he said quickly; "we're off to disable the gunboat yonder, and do two things."

"Good!" came like a croak.

"First thing is to foul the screw."

There was another croak, followed by--

"Lay that there cable so that she tangles herself up first time she turns. That's one."

Fitz coughed again slightly.

"You will run the boat up in silence, the men will hold on, while you and Chips make fast the end to one of the fans, and then let the cable glide out into the water as we pa.s.s round to the bows. It must all be done without a sound. All the rope must be run out, to sink, and then I propose that you hold on again under the starboard anchor."

"Suppose starboard anchor's down?" growled the boatswain.

"Pa.s.s the boat round to the port; either will do; but if we are seen or heard, all is over."

"Won't be seen," growled the boatswain. "It's black enough to puzzle a cat."

"Very well, then--heard," continued Fitz.

"Right, sir. What next?"

"There are no more orders. You will hold on while Mr Poole and I get aboard. We shall do the rest."

"Hah!" sighed the boatswain; and like an echo came a similar sound from the carpenter.

Then _pat, pat, pat_ came the kissing of the water against the bows of the gig, and the sides of the ravine seemed as weird and strange as ever, while the darkness if anything grew more profound.

At this point, with the boat gliding swiftly down stream, Poole leaned sideways to run his hand down Fitz's sleeve, feel for his hand, and give it a warm pressure, which was returned.

Then they went on round bend after bend, the current keeping them pretty well in the centre, till at last the final curve was reached, the starry band overhead seemed to have suddenly grown wider and the air less oppressive, both hints that they were getting out to sea, and that the time for the performance of the daring enterprise was close at hand.

Most fortunately the sea did not "brime," as the West-countrymen say, when the very meshes of their nets turn into threads of gold through the presence of the myriad phosph.o.r.escent creatures that swarm so thickly at times that the surface of the sea looks as if it could be skimmed to clear it of so much lambent liquid gold.

This was what was wanted, for with a phosph.o.r.escent sea, every dip of the oar, every wavelet which broke against the boat, would have served as signal to warn the watch on board the gunboat that enemies were near.

But unfortunately, on the other hand, there was the darkness profound, and not the scintillation of a riding light to show where the gunboat lay. They knew that she was about two miles from sh.o.r.e, and as nearly as could be made out just at the mouth of the channel along which the _Teal_ had been piloted to enable her to reach the sanctuary in which she lay.

But where was she now? The answer did not come to the watchers who with straining eyes strove to make out the long, low, dark hull, the one mast, and the dwarfed and ma.s.sive funnel, but strove in vain.

Fitz's heart sank, for the successful issue of his exploit seemed to be fading away, and minute by minute it grew more evident that there was not the slightest likelihood of their discovering the object of their search; so that in a voice tinged by the despair he felt, he whispered his orders to the boatswain to tell the men to cease rowing.

Then for what seemed to be quite a long s.p.a.ce of time, they lay rising and falling upon the heaving sea, listening, straining their eyes, but all in vain; and at last, warned by the feeling that unless something was done they were bound to lose touch of their position when they wanted to make back for the mouth of the little river, Fitz whispered an order to the boatswain to keep the gig's head straight off sh.o.r.e, and then turned to lay his hand on Poole's shoulder and, with his lips close to his ear, whisper--

"What's to be done?"

"Don't know," came back. "This is a regular floorer."

The boy's heart sank lower still at this, but feeling that he was in command, he made an effort to pull himself together.

"In the bright lexicon of youth there is no such word as fail," seemed to begin ringing as if at a great distance into his ears, and he rose up in his place, steadied himself by a hand on his companion's shoulder, and slowly swept the horizon; that is to say, the lower portion of the sky, to which the stars did not descend.

In vain!

There was no sign of gunboat funnel, nothing to help them in the least, and coming to the conclusion that their only chance of finding her was by quartering the sea as a sporting dog does a field, and at the same time telling himself that the task was hopeless, he bent down to try if he could get a hint from the boatswain, when he muttered to himself the words that had now ceased to ring, and his heart gave quite a jump. For apparently about a hundred yards away there appeared a faint speck of light which burned brightly for a few moments before with a sudden dart it described a curve, descending towards the level of the sea; and then all was black again.

For a moment or two the darkness upon the sea seemed to lie there thicker and heavier than ever, till, faint, so dim that it was hardly visible, the lad was conscious of a tiny light which brightened slightly, grew dim, brightened again, and then the boatswain uttered a low "Hah!" and Chips sniffed softly, this time for a reason, for he was inhaling the aroma of a cigar, borne towards them upon the soft damp night air.

The lads joined hands again, and in the warm pressure a thrill of exultation seemed to run from their fingers right up their arms and into their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, to set their hearts pumping with a heavy throb.

Neither dared venture upon a whisper to inform his comrade of that which he already knew--that some one on board the gunboat was smoking, probably the officer of the watch, and that they must wait in the hope that he might go below after a look round, when there was still a possibility that the crew might sleep, or at least be sufficiently lax in their duty to enable the adventurers to carry out their plans. They could do nothing else, only wait; but as they waited, with Fitz still grasping his companion's hand, they both became conscious of the fact that by slow degrees the glowing end of that cigar grew brighter; and the reason became patent--that the current running outward from the river, even at that distance from the sh.o.r.e, was bearing them almost imperceptibly nearer to where the gunboat lay.

The idea was quite right, for fortune was after all favouring them, more than they dared to have hoped. All at once, as they were watching the glowing light, whose power rose and fell, those on board the gig were conscious of a slight jerk, accompanied by a grating sound. This was followed by a faint rustle from the fore part of the boat. What caused this, for a few moments no one in the after part could tell.

They knew that they had run upon something, and by degrees Fitz worked out the mental problem in his mind, as with his heart beating fast he watched the glowing light, in expectation of some sign that the smoker had heard the sound as well.

But he still smoked on, and nothing happened to the boat, which had careened over at first and threatened to capsize, but only resumed her level trim and completely reversed her position, head taking the place of stern, so that to continue to watch the light the middy had to wrench himself completely round; and then he grasped the fact that the current had carried them right on to the anchor-chain where it dipped beneath the surface, before bearing them onward, still to swing at ease.

The man who acted as c.o.xswain--the Camel to wit--having leaned over, grasped the chain-cable and almost without a sound made fast the painter to one of the links.

CHAPTER FIFTY.

A DARING DEED.

The brains of the other occupants of the boat had been as active as those of Fitz, and their owners had come to pretty well the same conclusion, as they all involuntarily lowered their heads and sat perfectly still listening, and hardly able to believe that the man who was smoking was not watching them and about to give the alarm.

But the moments glided by and became minutes, while the silence on board the gunboat seemed painful. The perspiration stood upon Fitz's brow, forming drops which gradually ran together and then began to trickle down the sides of his nose, tickling horribly; but he dared not even raise his hand to wipe them away.

By degrees, though, all became convinced that they could not be seen, and something in the way of relief came at the end of about a quarter of an hour, when all at once the cigar in the man's mouth glowed more brightly, and then brighter still as it made a rush through the air, describing a curve and falling into the sea, when the silence was broken by a hiss so faint that it was hardly heard, and by something else which was heard plainly.

Some one, evidently the smoker, gave vent to a yawn, a Spanish yawn, no doubt, but as much like an English one as it could be. Then, just audible in the silence, there was the faint sound of feet, as of some one pacing up and down the deck, another yawn, and then utter silence once again.

No one stirred in the gig; no one seemed to breathe; till at last Poole raised his hand to Fitz's shoulder, leaned closer till he could place his lips close to his companion's ear, and whispered softly--

"I think they've let the fires out. I've been watching where the funnel must be, and I haven't seen a spark come out."

Fitz changed his position a little so as to follow his companion's example, and whispered in turn--

"Nor I neither, but I fancy I can see a quivering glow, and I've smelt the sulphur quite plainly."

There was another pause, and Poole whispered--

"Think there's anybody on deck?"

The answer came--